Psychological Warfare
by Princess Tazz of Dance
Summary: The Doctor declares war. On himself. *Warning* darkfic, very depressing, reader discretion advised, rated for safety oneshot


A/N: Little oneshot I came up with in the car… I have a Tumblr now so follow me! I'll put my URL at the bottom. I really have no excuse for not working on JD except that time got away. Hopefully I can get a chapter up over Christmas break!

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. Darn.

WARNING: This is a very dark fic. Kinda depressing. Reader discretion is advised. DON'T SAY YOU WEREN'T WARNED!

The Doctor ran. He ran to his very own hell. He opened the door. The most frightening room in the depths of the TARDIS.

He only came here when he was truly happy. Even being near the room stripped him of his beautiful smile. He didn't want to be happy. He thought he didn't deserve it. Sure, sometimes he laughed and smiled but it was rare that he truly felt joy. The second the spark of bliss returned, he ran to the room. He had this belief that if he was really happy, he wouldn't want the happiness to leave. Of course that might be true but he also thought that prolonged happiness would cause him to become selfish.

He had a reason to think so. It had happened before. It hadn't been his fault but he blamed himself. He found that when the Doctor is selfish, everybody dies.

He turned the knob and threw himself into the room. Instant pain flooded his hearts. He fell to the floor and choked back a sob. Feelings of guilt, betrayal, treachery, and helplessness swarmed his mind.

He crawled forward, towards the darkness. Then he fell. He fell down, down, down. The Doctor fell into despair, absolute despair. He fell into all his emotions. He felt them swirl around him, roughly battling each other as he fell deeper and deeper. All his feelings. Everything he'd ever thought. All the emotions, coming back to him in that moment. No holding back.

Emotions, a funny thing. They can be merciless. They can be unsure. They can make you feel dead. They can push you to desperate measures. They can make you feel alive.

Imagine all the bad feelings you've ever had come rushing at you full force. Got it? Okay, now multiply that by about one hundred. Still not enough. Try one thousand. That... That's a fraction of what the Doctor felt in that room.

Finally, his hand caught a ledge. He grabbed for something, anything. His fingers closed around something. He attempted to pull himself up but whatever it was he had a hold of collapsed. He released an anguished cry as he realized what it was. Or rather, who. A scream, doubtful that he knew whether it was hers or his, rang out. She plummeted into the darkness below him and disappeared.

He tried to tell himself that it was just the room. It was just doing it's job. Taking his happiness. But no. It was too real. Just like every other time he had come to the room, what happened there was as real as anything. Everything that happens there is real. What happens past the door cannot be undone. Once your back on the other side, it's still real. It's not real outside of the room but it still happened. It's like a dream. Just because the events of a dream didn't happen in the real world doesn't mean they didn't happen in the dream. The dream still happened.

The Doctor couldn't take it anymore. The room knew that and tried to use that to get him but the TARDIS did what it always did when it got this far.

He wasn't in the room anymore. The TARDIS had pulled him out of it. He was in a passageway. He was weak. He couldn't move. He let sleep overcome him. He hadn't slept long when she began searching for him. She finally found him in the little corridor.

"Oh my God, Doctor!" she cried as she ran to the limp body. He was breathing. "Doctor, wake up, please!" She shook him but he didn't wake. "Please," she whispered as a tear escaped her eye. Suddenly, she was exhausted. She laid her head on his chest and let the heavy weight of sleep fill her body.

They slept. Hours later, he woke. He was still weak but he summoned just enough strength to lift her off the floor and take her away from that wretched place. He took her to her room.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking as he laid her down on the bed. He kissed her forehead and turned to leave. "I'm so very sorry." She stirred at the sound.

"For what, Doctor?" she managed before drifting into sleep again.

"For everything." And with that, he was gone. He stumbled to his own room and dropped into bed. That night he dreamed that they were happy. All of them.

A/N: Now that you've read it, you can decide which Doctor and companion it is. Your favorite or just whoever you think fits. Here's my Tumblr URL.

Thanks for reading!


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